Tuesday
by Kira Kei Jinx
Summary: Oneshot. If you don't like, don't read. It was no surprise to Stan when it happened. It may have been a 'grave' situation, but it was no surprise to him. After all, Eric was always up to something.


I don't own South Park

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There was something Stan had never liked about Eric Cartman. It wasn't exactly a surprise, considering that most people couldn't stand that sociopathic bastard for one reason or another. But he, well, he had never _hated _anyone before. Not until Eric Cartman had waltzed his fat ass into his life and turned everything upside down. Stan had tried to run, he had tried to fight back, he had tried to ignore him. But there was nothing that could get Eric to leave once his was in your head and he was always stuck in your head the moment he opened his fat mouth and said hello. He wasn't entirely sure _what _it was about Eric Cartman that he just couldn't stand, being that he had never really _ever _done anything to him. Sure, he was rude and crude, but so was Kenny McCormick. And yeah, he fucked with his best friend Kyle all the time. But they all fucked with each other from time to time. And, okay, he had a habit of taking things and turning them into tons of trouble that landed them in a detention hall or jail or grounded or Peru following Craig Tucker around for whatever reason. But then again, Kyle Broflovski had gotten him into equally bad situations. Hell, he'd gotten himself into worse trouble on his own. Maybe it was because he just didn't trust Eric. No one could ever really trust him, though Butters sure as hell tried to. Eric made damn sure it wasn't in your best interest to trust him. Why, well, that was something Stan had never understood. Maybe it was because Eric didn't want friends or he didn't think he needed them. Or maybe it was because he was just that much of an asshole. It wouldn't really surprise Stan, considering the way that fat prick acted most of the time.

He supposed that was probably why he wasn't all too upset when he was being sat down with the rest of the 'boys' that Tuesday. He had never liked Eric Cartman, so he shouldn't be too upset about what had happened. He didn't smile a quiet, twisted smile the way Kyle had and he didn't roll his eyes the way Kenny had. But he didn't start crying the way Butters did and he didn't start spouting off some nonsense like Tweek Tweak had. He just sat there, a still, calm expression on his face as they were told the terrible news that they had all probably assumed was coming one day. The different reactions went through the group like wildfire, outside of him anyways. Craig snorted with laughter, Clyde asked if they were in trouble, Tweek twitched violently enough to crack his back, and Jimmy asked why the police were there. Kyle laughed, that blond kid he didn't even know said something, swore, and looked at Craig, and Kenny muttered 'fuck'.

Eric Cartman had always been trouble. That was one of the few things he had in common with Stan. It's what made them friends, if they had ever been that, and it's what landed them in the principal's office that day. Stan didn't know what drove him over the edge as often as he went, but he was usually there to pick up the pieces like some sort of community service. He knew better than to leave Eric broken. The last time he and Kyle and Kenny had stayed out of his business when he fell off the edge, Scott Tenorman's parents ended up in a bowl of chili. No, Eric Cartman was trouble with a capital 'T' and he couldn't be trusted to piece himself back together. He never did it right, so there Stan was at the end of the day, pulling on metaphorical gloves and orange jumpsuit, telling Eric that it wasn't so bad and that he should just let it go. He would end up involved for whatever reason and he would end up in trouble for it.

He didn't like it, but like he said, the last time he didn't get involved, someone's parents ended up dead and chopped up in a bowl of chili. Over sixteen dollars and a handful of change. It might have been that aspect of friendship with Eric that made Stan dislike him, but he doubted it. If it were that, then he could have walked away long ago. If it were that, he wouldn't have been able to stand being friends with that twisted freak with an even more twisted smile.

It was probably that twisted smile that landed Stan and the rest of the 'boys' in the principal's office that Tuesday. It usually started with that smile. It was the one thing about Eric Cartman that had ever made a lick of sense. When he smiled like that, he was up to no good and he was going to end up dragging as many people down with him as humanly possible. He was incredibly fat, so it was really easy for him to drag others down with that great weight of his. And once he was stuck in your head, he had his fingers intertwined with yours and you were his play thing, whether you liked it or not. That was the reason Kenny disliked him, because it was those intertwined fingers that got him killed by his 'best friend' time and time again. But it wasn't why Stan disliked him, though it would have been an excellent reason to.

That Tuesday morning, it was a 'grave situation'. Another thing that was related back to Eric Cartman. So the 'boys' were rounded up, including some blond kid with a 'grudge' from the other side of town, and they were led into that boring office to be told about it. Not that they had to be, since they always knew when Eric had gone and done something 'grave'. Word spread fast in such a small town, especially amongst them. It scared the girls and it made Butters cry and it made Tweek nervous, but they were always the first to know whenever something bad had happened, especially when it concerned Eric motherfucking Cartman.

There was something about that fat prick that made him impossible to ignore. And it had nothing to do with his immense size. No, it was the fact that he wasn't like anyone they had ever met before. Kyle said he wasn't all there in the head and Kenny said that he was too damn loud. Stan thought it was because Eric was different in a very different sort of way. He wasn't like the rest of them, that's for sure. He was cold and calculating and cruel. He was evil. That was a good way to put it. Eric Cartman was evil. And it was that evil that made them pay attention to him. You didn't dare turn your back on something evil and there was nothing in South Park half as evil as Eric.

It was terrible, what happened. Or so, they were told. Stan certainly didn't think so. It wasn't anything he hadn't heard before, what the police told him about that fat brunette with the most wicked of smiles. None of them were shocked. They were upset and they were scared and they were angry, but they weren't shocked. But when Jimmy asked why the police were there, all the 'boys' fell silent, eyes staring at the men in blue crowded around the principal's desk. Maybe that's what made it a 'grave situation'. Stan didn't think the police needed to be there, since none of them were involved with what had happened. But clearly South Park's 'finest' didn't see things the same way.

They thought at least one of them was involved. Eyes flicked towards him and Butters and Kyle and Kenny. If anyone were involved, it was usually one of them. But they weren't. No one had been involved. No one had to be. Eric Cartman would make damn sure he wasn't dragged down alone, even if he had to be dragged away screaming the names of anyone he knew didn't have a creditable alibi for the night in question. Stan had been called in many times because he'd been home alone and couldn't prove it. All of them had. It wasn't anything new, so it didn't surprise any of them that they were there. They were the 'boys' after all. When something went down in South Park, it was Eric Cartman's fault and they were standing in the middle of the ruins with him.

That Tuesday, each of the 'boys' were taken to a separate room and the police questioned them. Stan sat still, waiting for his turn with Kyle sitting next to him, drumming his fingers on his thigh. He muttered things about how glad he was it had happened, but Stan wasn't really paying attention. He hardly cared about the whole situation because he disliked Eric to begin with. It was hard to care much about someone as truly evil as him. Eric made damn sure of that.

Everything went the same way it always did. He was brought in, asked the same string of questions he had been asked any time he was arrested or caught with Eric. They wanted to know where he was, if he'd known what Eric was doing, and if he had been involved. All of the 'boys' answered the same thing. They were somewhere else, they didn't know what Eric was doing, and they weren't involved. It was as simple as that. Eric Cartman could yell and scream and twist his fat hands around their throats as much as he wanted, but he was utterly alone in all this. It didn't make Stan roar with gleeful laughter, but it didn't make him sob. He just blinked, answered the questions, and got to his feet. He nodded when the men in blue told him to contact them if he had any information and he walked out of the little room they hoped would intimidate one of them into snapping and spilling the beans about their 'friend'.

The classes were changing when the 'boys' were allowed to leave that Tuesday morning. A hush fell over the older and younger students, male and female alike. It didn't shock any of them, though they had never had to make their way through dead silence before. It made Tweek spout out something and Craig flip everyone the bird. The usual whispers and rumors started up, spreading down the line like wildfire. People stared with wide, horrified eyes and BeBe Stevens asked Clyde if it were true. They all knew it was and the 'boys' knew more than anyone that it was. But he just shrugged as they filed through the halls to their next class. A few girls muttered 'I'm so sorry' and the like. A few boys made some stupid jokes. The teachers swallowed hard. But no one mentioned Eric Cartman.

No one ever mentioned Eric Cartman when everything was said and done. He was all anyone could ever talk about when he was up to something, but when he was done and in police custody, no one had anything to say, to ask, to accuse. Stan figured it was because there was nothing left to say at that point. Whenever something went wrong in South Park, people pointed the finger at that fat, smiling face. But when he was actually caught for one reason or another, they were done spinning rumors and the truth. Because the real, honest to god, _truth _was always much worse than anything rumor or 'truth'. Eric had always made damn sure about that too. That whatever he was doing was always so much worse when the light was shined on him and he took his bow. He loved that spotlight, there had never been any denying that. And he loved when it lingered on him because of just how evil he truly was in the pit of that overstuffed gut of his. It's what made Butters dislike him so much, but not Stan. No, that wasn't it. He was too used to that by now.

That Tuesday, the spotlight was shining down on him brighter than ever before. Kenny called it 'going out with a bang'. Kyle said it was 'his final act'. Whatever it was, it was much worse than when he cut up Scott Tenorman's parents and fed them to the poor ginger boy. Stan didn't like that he was being dragged into Eric's mess again and that was really all he knew about the 'situation'. The police were going to go back and talk to that grinning brunette, who would insist that he'd had help and that the police would never get all the information they wanted unless they did what he wanted. The men in blue wouldn't realize they were being strung along and they would feed that gluttonous pig until he was fit to bursting with glee. And then, once they finally realized that he was playing them and that there wasn't anyone else involved, they would let loose whichever poor soul Eric tried to railroad this time, and try and work another angle. But when Eric was fat and full and happy, he didn't care for games. They would be screwed like they always were and he would have gotten whatever it was he got when he tried his hardest to bring someone down with him.

But this time, there wasn't anyone who'd been involved. He had gone and done it all by himself. The police could run circles around all of the 'boys' and none of them would give them any answers. Kyle would throw a fit and Clyde would cry, but none of them would be able to offer any help. It would delight Eric to know that he was wasting their time, but it wouldn't help the situation any. Stan knew it was going to happen as he sat down at his desk that Tuesday. It drove him crazy with annoyance, but that was the only thing he felt. He was way too used to this song and dance to let it bother him.

And besides, he had never liked Eric Cartman much. So whatever happened to him happened. He had seen it coming, they all knew that. Even in the back of that twisted head, Eric knew it too. He was trouble with a capital 'T' and he'd always known he wouldn't be able to get away with everything forever. That was probably why he had tried to use his influence to pull someone down to hell with him. That was probably why he always intertwined his fingers with his friends' when he first met them, to make sure they never got away. He used that massive weight of his to pull them back whenever they got too far away from him. And he used that honey sweet voice to convince them he wasn't as bad as everyone said. Anyone in their right mind wouldn't trust him, though Butters sure tried, and they would try to keep their distance. But it's hard to keep distance from someone like Eric Cartman, who enjoyed that spotlight the way most people enjoyed love or friendship.

There was something about the spotlight that warped Eric's mind even more than it already was. After he had fallen off the edge when he butchered Scott Tenorman's parents, he never really came back over it. He stayed on the edge, walking that thin line, a line as thin as he was fat, of dangerous and insane. He made up his mind, or rather, he lost it, and he danced on the side of insanity for a few years before sinking deeper. It was his weight, in Stan's opinion, that dragged him from simply insane to criminally insane. That weight that was filled with the desires for the spotlight and the passion for causing others pain. He was so filled with it that he grew fatter by the day, but he didn't care. It was a metaphorical weight, regardless of his actual size, and he could handle any amount of weight so long as he could stand in the spotlight, pulling whomever his latest pasty was into the light with him. And there they would stand, the blaring lights blinding them while he took a bow and forced them down into one alongside him.

But that wasn't what Stan didn't like about Eric Cartman. Well, yeah, he absolutely hated it because he usually ended up in lock up with that fat son-of-a-bitch, but it wasn't what he just couldn't stand. If it was that, Stan would have been able to run a long time ago, regardless of the hold Eric tended to keep on his 'friends'. He could stay out of the spotlight because Eric didn't like him the way he did Butters Stotch or Kenny McCormick. He wasn't as 'fun' as those two were, mostly because he didn't do what he said and because his best friend was Kyle Broflovski, who was a dirty Jew that Eric wanted hardly anything to do with.

But no matter what the reason was, Stan sat in the classroom and he sat in the assembly and he sat in the lunchroom and he sat in the principals office and he sat in the little room used to intimidate the 'boys' and he just didn't care about what had happened. He just pushed back his hair and nodded whenever Kyle raved about how delighted he was and he absentmindedly rubbed Butters' back when he started to break down in tears about how he should have done something. Kenny joked about 'breaking him out' and that blond kid spouted off some swears and asked why he was even there.

That was a good question. Why was he there? Why was Stan there? Why were any of them there? Kyle said it was because he'd been 'out to get Cartman before'. They all were guilty of that, except probably Butters, who was so intertwined with those honey sweet words that he tended to do whatever that fat prick wanted him to. The blond had been involved with one of Eric's ploys. He had been trying to stop it, but that's not what the police were told. He and Kyle had been dragged into the police station and questioned about the massive amount of pedophiles that had killed themselves as a result as a plot to ruin Eric's plans to get on television for having pretending to have Tourette's. They were just children, but ever since then, whenever a red flag was raised, that blond kid was dragged to their side of South Park, spouting off swears that had nothing to do with his actual Tourette's and he was questioned along with the rest of the 'boys'. But it wasn't the worst thing they had ever done to either get back at Eric or to try and prove he wasn't as grand as he thought he was. It always backfired in the end, because none of them were as skilled in tricking and black magic as Eric goddamn Cartman.

Eric may have been trouble and he may have been skilled with black magic, but it wasn't going to get him out of this one. There was no one to point the finger at, no excuses to be made, no pretty lies that would save his soul this time. The police might run around after information that Eric either didn't have or had no intention of giving them, but he was bound to pay the price this time. This time, the spotlight had swallowed him whole and there was no getting out of it. The 'grave situation' was plastered all over the halls and was all over the news that Tuesday afternoon when Stan when home. He wasn't happy about it and he wasn't depressed about it. He just was. The same way Eric Cartman 'just was' screwed.

Somehow, Stan knew he was going to have to pick up the pieces and hand them back to that grinning fat brunette. He had told Eric not to do it, whatever he was doing, but he hadn't listened. Stan hadn't tried hard enough, the same way he hadn't tried hard enough when Scott Tenorman decided it was a good idea to start a war with Eric Cartman. He had watched that deranged sociopath sink deeper into his own insanity and he had only told him to be careful and not to go too far. But, Stan knew he wasn't going to listen. Eric didn't know how to _not _go too far. That was how he'd gotten so fat and that was how he'd alienated himself from all his friends and that was how Scott Tenorman's parents ended up in a bowl of chili all those years ago.

Maybe that was why Eric had pointed his fat finger at the 'boys'. He knew the police would jump at the chance to nail 'all' of them. All being only the boys, of course. Because they didn't want to drag the innocent girls into it and because Eric Cartman didn't care about intertwining his fingers with women's. He had his boys and that was all the gluttonous pig ever needed. He wanted them to pick up the pieces and give them back in perfect order, since he had never been able to put them together right. Stan didn't like it, but he would do it. There wasn't any point, since Eric was as far gone as he ever would and there was no getting out of this one, but he would do it all the same. He and Kyle and Kenny and Butters and all the rest of them would do it. Not out of love or 'friendship' but because if they gave the pieces back, Eric would be more inclined to let them 'off the hook' regarding the police's interest in nailing them 'all' along with their so-called ringleader.

He slipped into his metaphorical jumpsuit and went to Eric's house that Tuesday afternoon. He would pick up what was left and he would try and fix someone who couldn't be fixed. Eric had missed a few things the last time they'd left him broken, back when he tortured that Scott Tenorman boy, and he'd tossed them in the trash. After that, it got harder to stop him from breaking, much like a vase that you glued back together without all the pieces. But he did what he could, letting Eric's mother know that it was alright and that her son would be fine. It wasn't a lie, though the concern he showed that terrible mother, but nice woman, was, but not what he'd said.

There was nothing left in this world that could hurt Eric fucking Cartman. He was evil and he was trouble and he was broken, but he wasn't hurt. He was a sociopath, so he couldn't be hurt. He danced in that spotlight, laughing in a sick sort of pleasure, delighted to be there. He stuffed himself silly off the disgust and horror and shock of the town whenever those bright lights were shined on him. He might not have had any pieces left and he might have fallen off the edge a long time ago, but he could never be hurt. If he could, he wouldn't have landed himself in this terrible 'grave situation' in the first place. It was why Kyle hated him so damn much, because of that resilience to being hurt.

By Tuesday night, the police were strung up on the lies that Eric had spun about the 'situation'. Stan watched from his window as they went from door to door, asking to speak to whichever boy lived there. Eric had taken the information, glutted himself on it, and sent the boys in blue back with more lies and more orders to get him whatever it was he wanted. Meanwhile, Stan was sure he was sitting in lockup, waiting for them to come back so he could laugh at their confusion some more. There was no more information they would get from the 'boys' no matter how much they made Clyde cry, Kyle scream, or Token slam his door. They didn't know anything because none of them were involved, regardless of what that fat ass had to say on the matter. Eric Cartman could fill up their heads with all sorts of taunts, but it wouldn't get them anywhere. It would only alienate him further from the 'boys' until they were fighting to untwine their fingers from his fat ones.

When it was Stan's turn to dance with the police for the second time that Tuesday, he didn't feel any anger or sorrow or joy. He just went downstairs when his mother called him and he stood in the living room. He sat when they asked him to and he stared at the two policemen in his house as they tried to get information he didn't have out of him. He blinked, answered their questions, told them the truth and sat quietly. It wasn't the truth Eric Cartman had told them, so they didn't know what to think. They were convinced that one of the 'boys' were involved and they had every right to think that. One of them, usually him or Kyle or Kenny or Butters, was usually involved in whatever scheme Eric was spinning at any given time. But no matter how many fingers he pointed in their direction, they were all innocent.

Of course, if the police believed the _truth _then they would have to admit that Eric Cartman was every bit as evil as they'd feared. Which meant that he was just feeding on their stupidity and letting them fatten him up even more. Which meant that he wasn't going to give them anymore information about the 'grave situation' than he already had, which if Stan knew Eric, wasn't much. The two policemen would crawl back with the rest of South Park's 'finest' and tell their boss that they didn't have anything but a confession and evidence. Sure, it was enough to put Eric fat ass Cartman away for the rest of his sick, twisted life, but it didn't give anyone the answers they wanted, needed. No one would know why and that was usually more important than the 'what' or 'how'.

The police should have asked the 'boys' why. Stan most certainly knew why Eric had gone and landed in this 'grave situation'. He knew it when they called him to the principal's office and he knew it when the police were questioning him in that small room and he knew it going over to Ms. Cartman's and he knew it when he watched the news before his dad quickly changed the channel. He didn't have to be involved to know _why _Eric Cartman had done it.

Eric Cartman loved the spotlight. He loved breaking himself and falling off the edge because he could dance in the spotlight all night and day. He laughed at warnings and he rarely followed advice. When there was a lingering amount of attention thrown his way, he would tighten his fat hands around his 'friends'' throats and he would drag them down into that twisted spotlight with him. He would take his bow, swollen with delight from the misery of others, and he would use those honey sweet words to convince whomever he needed to convince that he didn't enjoy that spotlight nearly as much as he did.

Eric was sick and he was twisted and he was broken and he was insane and that's why he did it. He was a sociopathic, cruel prick who loved the pain of others. It's why he'd butchered Scott Tenorman's parents over sixteen dollars and it's why he'd gone and done something so terrible. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair and it wasn't understandable, but it was the _truth. _And like always, the _truth _concerning Eric Cartman was always much worse than anything said could ever have been.

The police had nothing but the word of a psycho, so they were forced to leave his house that Tuesday night. They tilted their hats and they told Stan to let them know if he thought of anything. He nodded as they left, his father shutting the door with a rather hollow sound. His parents gave him that look, the look that said they wanted to ask him if he were really not involved, but weren't sure they wanted to know. It was a look Stan had gotten for years whenever Eric Cartman was involved, so it didn't send shivers up his spine to know they didn't entirely trust him. Being that he was trouble himself, he couldn't blame them for not trusting him. He didn't trust Eric and he didn't trust anyone that believed him for a minute. His parents thought he was involved in certain schemes because Eric had convinced him that it was a good idea. They figured he believed him, even though they couldn't have been farther from the truth. He went to keep the pieces from falling off as Eric fell further off the edge, not because he believed him. The only person he knew that was naive enough to trust Eric fucking Cartman was Butters, and even he did so with a grain of salt.

That Tuesday night, Stan went to bed knowing that the police would be up the rest of the night stuffing that pig's ego, getting him ready to burst. They wouldn't figure out that there would be no reward until much later. He went to sleep that Tuesday knowing what only the 'boys' knew from their 'friendship' with Eric Cartman. Something the police had never been able to figure out, despite how many messes they'd had to clean up in the past because of that same fat brunette with the wicked smile. Stan closed his eyes that somber Tuesday night without any concern to the 'grave situation' because he already knew what wouldn't be reported on the news for several months to come.

Eric Theodore Cartman, and he alone, had butchered sixteen young girls and he had no intention of telling the police where he had buried their bodies.

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The End.


End file.
